Stane went with him and indicated the direction.
"There, where the shore sweeps inward! Do you see, Jean?"
"Oui, m'sieu."
With bent brows the trapper stared at the blur of dots on the white surface, and after a couple of seconds began to count softly to himself. "Un, deux, trois, quatre——" Then he stopped. "Four dogs and one man," he said, turning to his companion. "But Chigmok it ees not. Behold, m'sieu, he comes dis way."
"Then who——"
"Dat ees not to be told. Zee men in zee wilderness are many." As he finished speaking a gust of wind drove suddenly in their faces, bringing with it a few particles of snow, and he looked up into the leaden sky. "Presently," he said, "it weel snow, m'sieu. Let us go and eat, then eef Chigmok has not appeared we weel go meet dat man out dere. He may haf zee news."
Reluctantly Stane turned with him, and went back to the camp. He had no desire for food, but he forced himself to eat, and when the meal was finished he assisted his companion to load the sledge. Then Bènard spoke again.
"We weel tak' one look more, m'sieu, before we harness zee dogs."
They went up to the outlook together. The lake once more showed its white expanse unbroken; the little blot of moving dots having withdrawn. Stane stared on the waste, with an expression of blank dismay upon his face, then he turned to his companion.
"Zee man, he camp," explained Bènard. "He not pushed for time, an' he know it snow b'fore long. We find heem, m'sieu, an' den—By gar! Look dere!"